


Nobody's Princess

by Zanbaby



Category: ALL OUT!! - Amase Shiori (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Crack, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Friends With Benefits, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Light Sadism, M/M, Master/Pet, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Teasing, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, sassy oharano for days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11639211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanbaby/pseuds/Zanbaby
Summary: Oharano and Ebumi have a very casual arrangement that involves some less than casual interests~





	Nobody's Princess

**Author's Note:**

> i got a lot of support writing this so i'd like to thank my darling [here](https://captaindeadpoet.tumblr.com) first & foremost for all the help & encouragement (´∀｀)♡ also thanks to maze & ari who gave this a beta read for me ily (*/ω＼*) oharano is trans in this & ebumi is submissive so if u like the sound of either of those things then i hope u enjoy~

 

"Oi, princess," Ebumi sneers as he tries to play off the fact he just had to jog to catch up to Oharano.

 

"How did it feel bein' the one benched today?" he jibes with that obnoxious smirk plastered to his face as he tries to clap the shorter boy on the back.

 

"Didn't feel like anything. I couldn't care less either way," the softer blond replies with flippant disregard for his senior, turning down the row of lockers where he normally goes to get changed in private, and dodging Ebumi's hand landing on his shoulder.

 

Naturally this makes the obnoxious winger sour. He's so easy to provoke, Oharano thinks to himself with a subtle and triumphant smile.

 

Ebumi growls and slams the rejected hand on the locker door as Oharano goes to open it, looming over him in an attempt to be intimidating. Of course this is met with more disinterest from the coolheaded fly-half.

 

Perhaps that's why Ebumi persists with him, and has been for the past few weeks. Oharano is a _challenge_. He _likes_ it. And recently the two of them have engaged in an... unofficial arrangement.

 

"If you're in one of those moods then fine, but I'm all pent up from barely gettin' to run thanks to that stupid midget gettin' in the way all day!"

 

"Yes, I see that," Oharano remarks, an air of mild bemusement on his lips but complete derision in his eyes as his gaze briefly pauses on the vaguely tented fabric of Ebumi's shorts.

 

"I fuckin' mean it, I'm achin' right now. Maybe today we can even... y'know," the winger grins, lowering his voice as he leans in close to Oharano and tries for a kiss.

 

He's candidly rejected of course; the fly-half just turns the other cheek, and this makes Ebumi blink offendedly and frown, jerking his neck in a gesture of misunderstanding.

 

"Really?! You ain't gunna' give me anythin', not even after how well I fuckin' played today?!"

 

"Would you say you played well, Ebumi-senpai? honestly I barely noticed you out there."

  
  
Ebumi snarls and slams the locker again, and seeing that this barely warrants an inch of movement in response, he ends up feeling flustered as his pants grow tighter.

 

What the fuck was it about this snarky little first-year that riled him up so much? Did he _like_ being made to work so hard for his attention?

 

Or maybe it was simply that, unlike in other corners of his life, he knew _here_ that if he wanted attention, his efforts would at least be rewarded after some fair game.

 

"Whatever, I'm fuckin' sufferin' here so c'mon, at  _least_ let me rut a li'l," he demands, keeping his voice low as a gaggle of boys leave the changing rooms behind them. Fortunately they go unnoticed, but it's not like Ebumi cares anyway.

 

The smaller blond huffs and rolls his eyes. He's obviously considering it, if only because he's partial to making a mutt out of his senpai in risky places himself.

 

"Oharano," Ebumi entices, speaking calm and low as he shelters him with his body from the next handful of lads to leave.

 

Actually using his name is always a sign he's prepared to approach things logically for once; clearly he _is_ desperate if he's willing to accommodate like this.

 

"Please?" he tries, a gentle request though it is, but the look in his eyes is nothing shy of a hungry fuckboy.

 

It prompts Oharano to make a stance and order some humility back into him.

 

"You think you get to ask me for favours like that? _no_ ," he scoffs, "you'll have to earn it."

 

Ebumi's eyes widen briefly and eagerly before he looks behind him and bites his lip, giving an assured nod and getting to his knees like the secretly obedient little pet he is.

 

Oharano takes a seat on the end of one of the benches then, reclining so that the second-year can remove his shorts for him. He slides them down with genuine care right up until they're free of his ankles, after that he haphazardly throws them behind him.

 

"Tsh, animal. You'll pick them up after this, got that?" Oharano sternly informs.

 

"Yeah yeah," Ebumi agrees mindlessly, beholding the sight of Oharano's strong, surprisingly thick thighs before he noses up between them and inhales against the thin fabric of his boxers separating their skin.

 

Oharano scowls and yanks his head back with a tug not meant to be taken lightly.

 

Ebumi grunts, displeased at first, but quick to relent when he sees the conviction in those honeycomb eyes as they silently warn him.

 

"Don't be disgusting—"

 

"Ain't disgusting, I jus' like the smell of ya'—"

 

" _Don't_ be disgusting, you hear?" Oharano reiterates with a snarl and another tug of Ebumi's peroxide-blond locks.

 

"Take them off nicely and do _not_ throw them," Oharano instructs in reference to his underwear.

 

The delinquent smirks and growls testily, maintaining eye contact even with his head tilted back.

 

It's the best he can do when he knows he has so little power here, and he follows his orders as he respectfully starts to shimmy the other boy's boxers down once he releases his grip.

 

"That won't do," the number ten reprimands. "Use your teeth, dogs don't have fingers after all," he smirks with a rare hint of cruelty on his lips as he takes pleasure in belittling his senior, who only seems to welcome it.

 

"Yes'sir," Ebumi responds, bracketing Oharano's thighs with his hands spread enough to encompass most of his quads while he lowers his head and slowly tugs away his pants with the waistband between his teeth.

 

"Dogs don't talk either," Oharano reminds, receiving a completely subdued glance up in his direction before it is averted and a faint blush appears on Ebumi's cheeks.

 

He knows he's allowed to take some initiative with regards to touch and repositioning, but even still, his gaze is humbly directed at the ground like a good boy as he lifts Oharano's legs onto his shoulders one by one.

 

As per the arrangement, he's not allowed to stare until Oharano determines if he's comfortable enough by this point.

 

Truthfully it came as a surprise how respectful Ebumi ended up being about everything.

 

It was an accident that everyone found out about Oharano's situation. Only the third years were clued in for the sake of safe conduct at first until an unfortunate training session when his binder started to give him trouble.

 

Even then though, not a single team member that day had anything other than support to offer.

 

Ebumi was the last to know given that he was still in his avoidant phase at that point, but as it turned out, the obnoxious winger wasn't the threat he appeared to be, and Oharano had grown oddly partial to having the lustful delinquent in this position.

 

He attempts to shuffle up then so that he doesn't have to support himself on his elbows and can use the lockers instead, and as always, Ebumi makes a seemingly instinctive effort to help him as those pleasantly firm, broad hands slide up to his back to aid him.

 

It's a small, trivial gesture, but it wasn't asked for or demanded, and that makes Oharano conscious of the fact that Ebumi actually _isn't_ an inconsiderate lover at all.

 

"Okay, go ahead," the ash-blond permits, keeping a hand lightly on the other's head, both ready to guide and punish as Ebumi starts with his tongue, and divides Oharano up the middle with it.

 

He closes his eyes as he works his way back down in a meandering pattern, an audible breath escaping over it as he tries to keep his tongue stiff and invent shapes and circuits as he licks Etsugo's cunt.

 

His head moves with the more ardent actions, and even though he's kind of missing the big picture here, or rather, the finer details in said picture, for now it's just endearing to watch him make the effort.

 

Ebumi moans occasionally as he alternates between slow swooping drags accompanied by unnecessary tilting of his head from side to side, and fast, (obviously learned from porn) laps of his tongue coupled with back and forth motions of his head.

 

It looks okay— it _looks_ like he's doing it right at least— but he isn't. He's usually too timid to put his tongue inside Oharano, and for the most part he keeps focusing on that senseless safezone below his urethra.

 

He'll occasionally catch his clit though, so the next time he succeeds, Oharano guides his head to prevent him from straying off target.

 

He works it out from that, momentarily looking up at Etsugo as he tries circling the pinkening pearl with the tip of his tongue.

  
  
"Good boy, that's i— ah~"

 

Ebumi smirks and gives a breathy pant of triumph at having teased even _that_ mere little sound from Oharano, but he's firmly rebuked; met with a frown as his hair gets yanked.

 

"Don't get cocky. You're barely doing the job," the number ten deals the blunt reminder.

 

Ebumi gives a shaky sigh and keeps up the pace, though he begins to fidget on his knees when the blush in his cheeks reaches its max, and all that blood starts going somewhere else.

 

It's getting uncomfortable, but he'll be rewarded, he knows.

 

Oharano is starting to react now too, shifting his legs on Ebumi's broad shoulders and fisting his hand up in his hair a bit more as he pushes his face down and rolls his hips to encourage his climax.

 

"Unh~ try _harder_ Ebumi-senpai. What, is that famous tongue of yours getting tired?" the lighter haired boy taunts, opening one eye to regard him dismissively as he feels the older boy move his hands toward his inner thighs in a preemptive gesture.

 

Etsugo pants, both eyes closed again now as he nods and huffs, "alright, go on... you can use your fingers."

 

There were always days when he wouldn't abide this. There were days when he wouldn't abide any of it, not even getting changed with his peers.

 

But he often finds after one rough day or even one rough week, his self-esteem returns stronger, and he can go back to being himself and letting everyone else know that no matter if he wobbles, he's still him, on and off the pitch.

 

He realises he's lucky to have that mindset naturally, of course. In truth there's a lot more things he feels lucky to have naturally than the one thing he _doesn't_ feel so lucky for, but sometimes that flicker of despair can be assuaged by taking control in other aspects.

 

Oharano affirms this conclusion for himself by giving Ebumi's roots another sharp tug, and this brings a satisfied smile to his lips when it makes his senpai moan.

 

"Tsh, you've even bitten your nails back for me, I hope that wasn't mere presumptuousness that encouraged you to do that," he tuts.

 

Ebumi seems to be deliberating over whether he should talk or not but he knows better, so he simply acts instead, lifting Oharano's legs off his shoulders with those powerful arms and bending him at the knees for better access.

 

The fly-half doesn't protest this; he's having more fun seeing how reverent Ebumi looks with his cheeks flushed and his head bowed like a dedicated little pet.

 

He uses his thumbs to separate, then licks his own lips thoughtfully as he takes away one hand and curls his middle finger inside Oharano.

 

"Harder than that," Etsugo demands, leaving him with that instruction as his mouth returns to tending his clit.

 

The younger blond closes his eyes then and lets his head rest on the lockers behind him, entrusting the rest of it to his subjugated senior so that he can occupy his mind on achieving pleasure instead of giving orders.

 

He catches himself when a soft but audible sigh escapes him, frowning down at Ebumi through the fronds of his eyelashes to be sure he isn't going to act like he deserves merit for that.

 

It's apparent he's focused now. He's clearly edging, and he doesn't have the time to waste anymore by being flirtatious or wry. He wants his, and he knows he has to make sure Oharano deems his efforts worthwhile before he can have it.

 

"Ah~ _good_ , that's good," Etsugo pants, still mindful to let his voice roll so he doesn't lose the depth he's worked so hard to develop.

 

He swaps the harsh grip for a rewarding set of smooth strokes, brushing Ebumi's gelled bangs back almost lovingly.

 

The praise makes Ebumi's cock ache though, and he doubles his efforts in the hopes of more, making Oharano relent and give an unbridled moan as his teeth click together and his head bumps the lockers, sending an echo through the hollow metal.

 

"Th— that's better— much better, good boy. Almost there... I'm almost~"

 

"Nh—"

 

Oharano opens his eyes, taking note of that little sound Ebumi failed to suppress. The hand he at some point hooked around his thigh is gripping desperately, pressing dimples into the relaxed muscle.

 

He gets it now. Ebumi's pants are fiercely tented to the point where an uneven, telltale little trickle is darkening the white fabric. He's probably going to come just from giving head.

 

Having that effect on him is quite amusing though, and Oharano stores the thought away just for while he meets his climax under Ebumi's messy, desperate mouth and aimless but forceful finger.

 

Oharano had admittedly been stifling himself up until now; it's easier to enjoy if he can't hear himself or have to divide his attention further by actively fighting to keep his voice from going up those few octaves.

 

But it's fine now when all he can get out anyway is a breathy gasp.

 

His next intake of air hitches, and he's there, holding only half his lung capacity as his lips part slightly and he starts to tremble.

 

"Ah~ keep going, good boy, keep going~" he groans softly, rolling his hips to ensure Ebumi doesn't get sloppy toward the end and let the vigour die.

 

He's stopped using his tongue, apparently his finger is getting tired too, but he's not as collected as Oharano, and it becomes obvious why he's slowing when he rocks his own hips and grunts.

 

Etsugo is _right_ there though, and he'll be damned if Ebumi doesn't see this to the end because he's just too easy to arouse himself.

 

"I said keep going!" Oharano snarls, genuinely mad at the possibility of losing his orgasm and forcing Ebumi's head back down.

 

The hazy little delinquent can't regain focus though, and it's only by sheer haphazardness where the flat of his tongue drags firmly against his clit that Oharano manages to come.

 

That realisation is enough; the feeling of Oharano contracting around his middle finger is enough, the way he _squirms_ and lets out a low exhale is enough to make Ebumi come alongside him.

 

He grits his teeth and tries to keep it down, but it's been aching so much and he's been building so long that there's no possible way he can suppress it.

 

He's lucky Oharano needs that moment to recover; he can disguise his own moans under the other's ragged panting. It doesn't last long though, and Oharano looks cross when his eyes open again and he has to grab Ebumi's hand to make him stop his lazy fingering.

 

"Enough of that, idiot, it's done. You're just hurting me now," the number ten snaps, a familiar listlessness setting in on his features as his blush fades and his breathing becomes even.

 

He swings his legs over his shoulder, sighing the last of the tremors away before getting to his feet to retrieve his pants.

 

Ebumi watches hopefully as his master goes over to collect his discarded shorts next and slips them on one foot at a time. He's so swift and graceful even in doing such mundane things.

 

He walks back over slowly then, standing right up close as he now looks over his senior and takes his chin between his thumb and forefinger, tutting in a chastising manner.

 

"Tsh, such a pain... and look at the state of you," he remarks, swiping the remnants of his own cum off Ebumi's chin. He always has been one to drool when he gets excited.

 

He looks directly ahead, releasing the hold he has on his chin and sliding his hand along Ebumi's jawline, prompting the older boy to lean in and smother himself on his thigh as he gently presses against his crotch with his foot.

 

That's met with a raspy groan and a misleadingly agonised grimace as he increases the pressure with the utmost control, teasing more guttural keens out of the other blond until he shunts against his leg in desperation.

 

His outside hand comes over to clutch the back of Oharano's thigh, and he makes another weepy croaking sound as his top lip curls and he snarls at the painful pleasure of Oharano's foot pressing against his diamond-hard dick.

 

"You're always so pitiful when it comes to your turn... well, you're pitiful anyway, but not so arrogant right now, hm? I like it when you listen to me, Ebumi-senpai..."

 

It fills him with a kind of confidence he never expected he'd have, given how most of the time he's having to cover parts of himself and keep it secret, but if he's discovered anything from these messy little sessions, it's that he was _born_ to take charge in _any_ situation.

 

"Heh, who's the princess now, Ebumi-senpai?" he teases, remembering he _did_ need to reprimand him for that earlier slip-up.

 

Ebumi just mewls softly and nods his head, his bottom lip dragging against Oharano's bare thigh as he tries to give it a non-committal kiss.

 

"Enough of that mutt," the younger blond decides. "Get up on the bench there and present yourself to me."

 

Ebumi does as he's told, impatiently slipping his shorts and pants down to his ankles before stepping out of them and assuming an all fours position on the bench in front.

 

"Good boy," Etsugo supplies, though not sounding too meaningful about it as he approaches Ebumi and runs a hand where he can't see.

 

His middle finger is extended further as he fans them out and drags that one between his buttocks.

 

Ebumi flinches at the uncouth touch, somewhat relieved when his junior recognises the need for some lubricant and, quite resourcefully, gathers what is smattered on the inside of the delinquent's plush thighs.

 

"Head down for me," Oharano coaches, giving an assertive push between Ebumi's shoulder blades to make him submit.

 

He does so very nicely; no resistance or even a growl of displeasure as he just goes down like a good boy, exposing himself furthermore to the unequivocal scrutiny of the fly-half.

 

He works his finger in slowly, pushing at first to test the give of his muscles, then just inserting the tip of his middle finger, then sliding up to the first knuckle before he's right the way in.

 

Ebumi moans and cants his head back when Oharano finds his sweet spot, and he smirks behind his back as his senpai huffs and bows his head again, rocking hungrily to encourage Oharano to go faster.

 

"Please~" the winger implores through gritted teeth. If there's one thing Ebumi struggles with it's being made to wait. That applies to every aspect of his life, in fact.

 

Oharano isn't feeling merciful today though; perhaps he _is_ a bit pissed off after being a benchwarmer today?

 

Either way, Ebumi's backside looks like it could take the brunt of his frustration, so he slides his finger out and lands a resounding smack across the unsuspecting skin.

 

"Ow, what the fuckin'—"

 

"Talk again and you'll get another one."

 

Ebumi is stunned for a moment by the aggression in Oharano's voice, and he turns his head away and nervously licks his lips before replying, "yes sir," trying to amend for his brief panic by adopting a resentful expression.

 

It's as good as forgotten by the time Etsugo's finger is circling his prostate again. Even the tingling that simmers on his abased skin feels kind of satisfying.

 

He goes down onto his front once more now that he is relaxed, his dick following the movement parallel to his body and smearing pre-cum near his belly button as skin meets skin.

 

A soft purr escapes him as he lays his head on his forearm and goes with the motions. Maybe _he's_ not very good at getting others off but Oharano sure is, and when a slender, dexterous hand slinks between his thighs and starts handling him, he grins and bites his lip.

 

"This is far more than you deserve you know?" Oharano reminds him, sensing he is getting too comfortable with the current situation.

 

"Mm, yes sir," Ebumi quietly agrees, daring to respond lest a lack of one only frustrates Oharano further.

 

He tenses for a moment, briefly anticipating punishment, but he's relieved to find it was the right decision when Oharano only starts to finger him with more fervour.

 

"Oh~ _fuck_ , that's— I mean, shit! I'm not talking! Don't smack me again okay?"

 

There's genuine panic in Ebumi's voice there, Oharano notices it easily, hitching an eyebrow as he considers the appeal. The other boy seems pretty genuine about that request though, so he doesn't push it.

 

"Don't smack you?" he tests instead. "Heh, I won't smack you princess..."

 

He's smiling; Ebumi can hear it in his words, but the pace he continues to handle him at is making him breathless and desperate, and he doesn't expect the slight nip on his right cheek.

 

It jolts a cry out of him, but even Oharano's mocking chuckle that follows can't distract him from the feeling unfurling in his tummy as he approaches orgasm.

 

"Are you going to come, Ebumi-senpai? If you are you can tell me. I can already feel it. You keep tightening around my finger, don't you?" Etsugo leers.

 

Ebumi nods honestly, too desperate to play him for more when he's already hitting the spot over and over just right.

 

"Tell me when, Ebumi-senpai. Tell me when you can't take any more and you're going to come all over yourself, you dog."

 

Ebumi whimpers, cinching up his jaw as he raises himself back onto all fours using those strong arms.

 

"C— coming... I'm coming~" he pants, wincing as he braces himself for it but instead feels the movements slowing down.

 

"Fuck! Wait, d— don't~"

 

"Oh~ _I'm_ sorry Ebumi-senpai, I guess my finger got _tired_. Maybe you can force me to carry on, or maybe you can _beg_?"

 

"I'll beg!" Ebumi relents, shunting back rapidly to swallow Oharano's finger and prevent him from leaving him there.

 

"I'll beg! I'm begging now! Please for the love of fuck jus' lemme' come! _Ah_ ~"

 

"Hm? don't let up now just because I started again. Come on Ebumi-senpai, I want you to really beg. Or maybe I'll have you bark for me?"

 

"Ugh, f— fuck that I ain't—"

 

"Oh you _won't_? That is a shame then—"

 

"No, no, don't slow down again! Alright..." Ebumi concedes, hanging his head befittingly, "fuck... I'll do it..."

 

Oharano grins wickedly when he gets what he wants. He'd never anticipated how much it would delight him forcing their arrogant winger onto his hands and knees like this and making him yap for the right to come, but it sure was a fucking lot.

 

"Psh, look at you debasing yourself like this Ebumi-senpai," Oharano teases, securing his thumb, middle and forefinger around the circumference of his shaft, just below the head, and letting him fuck into it as he whines and woofs like his life depends on it.

 

His efforts dwindle when he starts to come, throwing his head back and grimacing unattractively as a long, heaving groan accompanies the overflow of semen, trickling between Oharano's fingers and continuing in abundance until it's dripping between the panels of the bench beneath him.

 

Even though he failed to keep up his performance Oharano grants him some mercy there, deciding the sight of the messy delinquent coming by his hand like this is satisfying in itself.

 

He smirks as he continues to gently rub against his prostate in three second strokes, causing refractory spurts of brief and highly overstimulating pleasure that have Ebumi snapping his hips into his hand long-after he's come and letting out soft grunts as he tries to ask for reprieve.

 

"Oharano, t— too much— _ah_! Too much~" he gasps, dissuading his hand from behind him.

 

The younger blond knows this, so he kindly concedes, and grabs Ebumi's shorts to wipe his hands on before laying them across his lower back while he watches their resident troublemaker try to catch his breath.

 

Ebumi finishes himself off by running his hand along his dick once to dispel the excess cum, then kowtows onto his front again and whips his shorts off his back in irritation.

 

"Your yapping was cute Ebumi-senpai, but you'll never be cute like Pomekichi," the first-year mentions with a soft snort as he starts to get changed out of his kit finally.

 

"Tsh, yer' a sick bastard, y'know that?" Ebumi replies, getting to his feet and swaggering half nude out into the main atrium of the locker room toward the showers.

 

"Aw, Ebumi fuckin' hell! Put some pants on!"

 

"Or what?!"

 

Is the exchange that can be heard from next door, and Oharano can't help snickering to himself at how dual-sided Ebumi really is.

 

He doesn't half recover quickly given he was facing the loom of extreme humiliation just minutes ago. Perhaps next time he will have to take it further and make the lesson _stick_ , Oharano thinks to himself.

 

Pomekichi _does_ need a new collar and lead... maybe his other little pet would look pretty in his doggy handmedowns?

 

 


End file.
